Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 666: Chapter 666 - The Madman Wielding a Hammer
Enkrid’s gaze turned to Esther’s eyes.
Her pupils carried a burning heat, and her hair swayed despite the absence of wind.
What’s with her?
"And I didn’t cut in line. Big Eyes, another round."
A scent other than the night sky’s fragrance mixed with Esther’s breath.
It was a rich, smoky aroma with a hint of sweetness.
"Yeah, yeah."
At some point, Krais had fetched a fragrant bottle of liquor and was pouring it into the glass Esther extended.
The aroma was smooth, but the alcohol was strong.
"This was a gift from the fairy city."
As Krais poured, Shinar added,
"It’s a liquor made from five kinds of fruits, infused with dawn dew. It’s called Tingtilus Wir. In the continental tongue, it means ’Seeping Poison’ or ’Silent Encroaching Mist,’ something like that."
So, it’s a strong drink.
"I don’t get drunk. Don’t worry. The Glint spell is a secret of mages. One does not reveal their vision to just anyone. Shinar, it’s good to have you back."
She’s drunk.
Enkrid was sure of it.
"Liquor? I don’t get drunk. Why are you looking at me like that? The night sky is spinning. Is today the end of the world? Are the stars descending to shatter the earth? If so, we can’t just sit here. Enki, follow me. We need to find a place to stay for a while."
Definitely drunk.
"Is there no place for me?"
Krais chimed in with a grin.
He must have found Esther adorable.
"You little claw thieving bastard."
Without warning, Esther clenched her fist and swung.
Krais, though not untrained, instinctively bent backward to dodge.
A sharp whoosh cut through the air.
If that had landed, at the very least, it would’ve been a fracture.
Esther might appear slender, but her hands carried the power of a panther.
She’d told them so herself—one of the benefits of transforming into a Lake Panther.
"Not the face."
But Krais’s response as he dodged was ridiculous.
So other places are fine?
"Why not the face?"
Hearing that, Rem swallowed the meat he’d been chewing and asked.
Despite eating something that should’ve left grease all over his mouth, Rem remained surprisingly clean.
That guy is full of contradictions.
He’s sharper than he looks, enjoys setting up elaborate traps, and even when he torments others, it’s all calculated.
’Even when killing nobles, he never picked just anyone.’
He only killed those beyond redemption, deliberately cultivating an infamous reputation.
That way, only the truly malicious bore grudges against him.
Watching him eat so neatly was just another contradiction.
This was likely a side of him only seen within the current knighthood.
Just something to think about.
"Unlike Rem, I take care of my looks."
Krais inched away from Esther as he spoke.
Did he even realize what he was saying?
That’s the thing about Krais.
Normally, he calculates everything, but in moments like these, he blurts out nonsense.
For example, he should know exactly how Rem would react to that, yet he still said it without a second thought.
"And me?"
Rem asked.
The smile at his lips was chilling.
It was the kind of smile that could snuff out the campfire’s glow.
"...The most handsome man the West has ever produced."
Krais quickly corrected himself.
"Too late, bastard. I’ll make that face of yours a lot more ’manly’ today."
Rem pulled out a bone dagger.
Where did he even get that?
The thing radiated an eerie presence.
"H-Hey, let’s not do this. Ragna, Audin, Commander, Commander!"
Krais scrambled behind the campfire.
The flames shifted, reaching sideways like outstretched hands.
Watching the fire flicker, Shinar murmured absentmindedly,
"It’s fine now. It’s fine."
The devil’s fire was gone.
She knew that.
But a brand burned into one’s soul was not so easily erased.
"What about Bran?"
Enkrid asked, glancing at the commotion.
Shinar quickly answered.
"He hasn’t quit smoking. Funny, isn’t it? A Woodguard smoking tobacco?"
Not really.
Not when he knew why Bran smoked.
"I’ll take a walk in the night air. Big Eyes, a few scars on the face should be fine."
Ragna stood up, making Krais bristle.
"You don’t have a single scar on yours!"
"Well, that’s because there’s never been anyone good enough to leave one."
Ragna wasn’t much of a talker.
He moved as if everything was a hassle.
But here, among them, he spoke more and didn’t seem so sluggish.
That was his contradiction.
"That was a pretty smug thing to say. You should say that in front of the whole unit later. They’ve been slacking lately."
Ropord commented, and Fel, grumbling, grabbed the expensive fairy liquor and chugged straight from the bottle.
"If you drink all that alone, I’ll cut open your stomach and scoop some out."
Rem, ever as blunt as he was deadly, made another chilling remark.
Audin didn’t even give Fel the chance—he grabbed his throat and pried the bottle from his mouth.
Fel struggled instinctively, only to get smacked.
"It’s divine punishment, brother."
No, that’s just violence, Audin.
Ropord followed after Ragna, not wanting to leave him alone.
Meanwhile, Enkrid took a sip of the liquor Krais had brought.
’It’s strong.’
Yet, amid the heavy scent of alcohol, a sweet and tangy taste spread across my tongue, making the drink oddly enjoyable.
Should I say it was a liquor that, rather than overwhelming with its potency—worthy of its nickname,
Seeping Poison
—first ignited the palate with flavor?
With alcohol this strong, it was no wonder Esther had passed out.
"I shall save you. Don’t worry, you fools."
Esther mumbled while lying down.
At some point, her robe had spread wide, transforming into a thick blanket, yet she still looked cold.
I should bring her a proper cloak later.
"This is strong liquor. Should we make it a celebratory toast?"
Shinar approached from the opposite side and sat down as he spoke.
"For what?"
I expected another pointless joke.
"For grasping with your own hands the very thing you wished for."
Perhaps influenced by the flickering flames, Shinar spoke in a serious tone rather than joking, saying exactly what needed to be said at this moment.
Enkrid had once debated the value of the peace he had forged through the sword.
He had also thought, at one point, that these people represented the knightly order he had always dreamed of.
But to be honest, all that mattered now was that he simply liked the way things were.
He liked standing beside these madmen.
He liked being able to protect those behind him.
He liked fighting for his own will and pushing forward.
He liked everything about it.
"Sometimes, you should set aside your troubles and just rest."
Shinar said.
She added, "In my embrace," but that part was ignored.
Enkrid ate, drank, and slept.
And he dreamed.
"The weather is fine. Today, I’ll tell you an old story. It’s a really fun one—about a fairy who loved jokes."
An old woman, who had once sold her body to survive, now found peace in telling stories to her grandchild, seated on her lap.
"Business is tough, but when I see my little one’s face, I feel recharged."
A fruit vendor pulled his cart, thinking of his wife and child.
A bashful young man and woman whispered love to each other in a field of flowers.
A soldier, in charge of maintaining public order, grumbled about his growing belly, lamenting the recent lack of work.
A baker, watching him, nagged that he should wake up earlier and run.
The guard retorted that his own father should do the same, only for the baker—his father—to fire back that he was too busy baking bread every morning.
If he didn’t like it, he could quit and start baking instead.
In the dream, no one worried about monsters lurking outside the village.
No one feared that the flames of war would someday consume them.
There were no bandits stealing from them.
Even the lord pondered whether maintaining the city walls was truly necessary.
Enkrid watched them and drew his sword.
Or, to be precise, he drew his sword outside the city where they lived.
Peace and tranquility would not come simply by lying down and waiting.
A knight who will end this war!
A knight who will paint the twilight with the end of war!
We shall call him the Twilight Knight!
The Knight of Armistice!
The Knight of the End! The one who shall bring war to its conclusion!
With the bard’s song as his lullaby, Enkrid awoke from his dream.
He rose at dawn and began training.
By morning, Esther, recalling the events of the previous night, let out a silent scream—then disappeared for two whole days.
The soldiers stationed near the mountain range later reported hearing eerie wails echoing from the mountains.
Some were monstrous cries.
Some sounded like the shrieks of beasts.
"Well, she sure knows how to blow off steam."
Rem commented.
Enkrid simply chuckled.
A few days later, a summons arrived from Aetri.
He wanted Enkrid to come to the forge.
The news sent a thrill through him.
It wasn’t an engraved weapon yet, but it was said to be one step away.
How could he not be excited?
As soon as he finished his morning training, Enkrid raced through the city at dawn, heading straight for the forge.
"You’re here."
Aetri welcomed him as if he had been waiting.
The forge’s heat filled the air, warming the crisp morning breeze.
He sat amidst that heat, with his hooded assistant standing beside him.
"Do you know about the three great metals of the continent?"
Instead of greeting him, Aetri got straight to the point.
"No."
Enkrid shook his head.
People are knowledgeable about the fields they take interest in.
Enkrid had heard of Valerian steel, True Silver, and Black Gold in passing, but he wasn’t well-versed in metals beyond that.
The assistant brought out a chair, and Enkrid sat down.
Two cups of tea, steaming, were placed before them.
Aetri retrieved a long object wrapped in cloth, placing it on the table.
"From the Eastern Huang mines, Wuber Mountain’s Black Gold was discovered. Lewis’s iron mines yielded True Silver. You know, of course, that despite their names, neither is actually gold or silver."
That much he knew.
Enkrid nodded, and Eightree continued.
"Then, from the Valerian mines, something rarer still is found—True Iron. It has a deep bluish-black hue, and while most metals become brittle as they grow harder, True Iron does not have that weakness. And when you smelt meteorites, you get Star Iron."
Enkrid listened carefully, trying to grasp Aetri’s point.
"This armor we acquired contains traces of Star Iron. And the other metal... was Philosopher’s Stone—what some call Living Metal."
The first sword Enkrid had received was Black Gold.
The next was True Silver.
And the one in his hands now—
Penna
, a blade reforged by a fairy blacksmith, using a rare variation of True Silver called
Moonlight Silver
Aetri’s eyes burned with passion.
A scholar devotes their life to truth.
A knight is consumed by the way of the sword.
And a craftsman?
For a master craftsman undertaking an unprecedented challenge, what mattered most?
The answer might change over time, but right now, Enkrid knew exactly what Aetri wanted.
"You want me to get True Iron for you?"
"Yes."
Eightree answered without a moment’s hesitation, without even taking a breath.
It was as if a swordsman had drawn and struck before his opponent even noticed.
This was what the craftsman before him truly desired—materials.
"Just say it plainly."
"I will, next time."
It wasn’t that he had intended to be indirect.
’Aetri is enjoying this, too.’
He was savoring the process of forging an engraved weapon.
He wasn’t seeing the present as suffering and despair.
And that was the right way to see it.
A lunatic who wields a hammer, enjoying even the process.
’That’s you.’
That was how Enkrid defined it.
If Aetri had heard, he would have looked at him with a most disapproving gaze.
Having let the moment settle, Aetri returned to his usual composed demeanor.
He unwrapped the cloth bundle he had placed on the table.
"I can see a path forward to some extent, but I suppose this could be called my first test. Do you like the form?"
Seeing a path forward likely referred to the method of crafting engraved weapons.
Calling this a test while asking about the shape meant he intended to finalize it in this form.
Penna was a short sword with a single-edged blade.
Even so, it had served well.
The way it fit snugly in his grip, and once he grew accustomed to it, its sharpness became another weapon in itself.
Even Rem had grumbled every time his axe clashed against Penna.
"If this keeps up, my axe is going to get upset."
That’s what he had said.
Ragna had outright declared that it was time to get a new sword.
"I need to go fetch a sword real quick."
"Where from?"
"There’s a place for that."
Leaving without stating a destination was akin to declaring he would never be seen again.
"We call that a farewell, not a journey, Ragna."
Krais’s words echoed Enkrid’s exact thoughts.
In the end, Ragna did not leave.
"Well, the way back is a bit confusing."
Hearing that only reinforced that letting him go would have been a terrible mistake.
For Ragna to say he was confused—he could easily end up lost, drifting by ship, and eventually drowning at sea.
In any case, Penna was a weapon of that caliber.
Finding something he liked better would not be an easy task.
Enkrid grasped the sword hilt resting on the table.
Wrapped in smooth brown leather, the pommel was simple in design—an elongated rhombus shape.
The ricasso area remained unsharpened, and the guard was a simple straight line, devoid of any engravings or embellishments.
"The sword tip is imbued with black gold, the blade is mixed with true silver, and the core is meteoric iron."
The Philosopher’s Stone had been melted down to fuse the three metals.
The blade was long, closer to a two-handed sword than a one-handed one, with a grip to match.
Its thickness resembled that of a spatha, slightly robust.
Overall, it had the form of a two-handed sword, but that did not mean it couldn’t be wielded with one hand.
A knight’s strength allowed them to swing even a club forged from five iron maces lumped together.
And among knights, Enkrid’s strength was exceptional.
"I like it. More than anything."
Enkrid spoke.
A certain phrase came to mind—falling in love at first sight just by seeing someone from a distance.
That was exactly how he felt.
The form alone was magnificent.
Even without testing the balance, it was already the ideal weapon he had envisioned.

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